


stop pushing

by unslakable (artistsRevival)



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, feat. an angery danny somewhere in between canon and fanon in terms of trauma, light Violence, something of a concept fic, wes almost pisses himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsRevival/pseuds/unslakable
Summary: Wes pushes a little far this time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dude idk i wrote this in german while scrolling the wes weston tag on tumblr

Six months of hunting the Ghost Boy takes a toll on a guy. Trying to prove some nameless punching-bag freshman’s secret identity as the town hero - that’s enough to drive someone crazy. Especially when said punching bag/Amity Park-beloved superhero sabotages your every attempt. Not that it’s not somewhat understandable, but. Honestly. Does he have to destroy Wes’s camera every time? Can’t he just wipe his memory card? Cameras are fucking expensive. 

The problem is that Phantom - or rather Fenton - or - fuck it, they’re the same person - he’s so goddamn jovial about this whole situation. He looks Wes in the eye and transforms right the hell in front of him, with those damned white-blue rings, and grins before taking off to save the day or whatever the fresh hell teenage superheroes do. 

Wes just wants people to stop thinking he’s crazy for drawing the connection. Fenton, though - he seems like he’s out for Wes’s sanity. 

 

\--

 

Danny is having one hell of a bad day. 

Not that he isn’t used to ghost attacks; he  _ is _ , but that doesn’t mean he has to like them. And when there’s something approaching a dozen in a day - well. It’s enough to make anyone cranky. After Vlad’s latest scheme - something involving releasing Technus, for some reason, as though he’s anything more than a nuisance to Danny at this point - all Danny wants is to skive off the last two hours of school, go the fuck home, and sleep. 

But he can’t. Because, of course, Technus wasn’t the only ghost in town today, and there’s still two of those Ectopusses wandering around. They’re nothing more than minor pests, really, but Danny is frustrated, he’s close to pulling his hair out and letting Amity Park deal with them their damn selves, and he hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two weeks. The dark circles under his eyes show through the concealer he borrowed from Jazz. 

He doesn’t need teachers inquiring into his well-being. Not when his parents are already scheming their newest plot to capture the Ghost Boy and dissect him.

And, really, he’s already caught one of the damn octopus ghosts when lo and behold, the prime human pain in his ass,  _ Wes Weston,  _ practically appears behind him. 

Danny is having none of it, and the ghostly rage already built up in his chest has nowhere to go but out.

 

\--

 

The fourth camera these six months goes flying out of Wes’s hand from a concentrated ecto-blast in record time as a blast of cold air rockets through the alley he’s found himself in.  _ That’s strange. _ And about to get stranger, Wesley, dear. 

Phantom turns around slow, eyes still closed and a very, very cold expression gracing ageless features. Fenton looks like a normal fourteen-year-old, but Wes has noticed that the Phantom alter-ego looks like he belongs in any time and no time. He could be anywhere from thirteen to twenty-five and no one would be able to tell any better. Their features match perfectly, but there’s just… something about Phantom. Possibly that he’s a fucking ghost. 

Either way, his expression right now is terrifying and Wes - well, he hadn’t bargained for this. 

Phantom’s feet leave the ground and his eyes pop open, glaring directly at Wes and advancing on him. “When will you take a  _ fucking  _ hint, Weston?” That voice rings like he’s in a long, cold tunnel. His eyes smoke unlike what Wes has ever seen from Phantom. 

He doesn’t have a chance to respond. Instead, he’s picked up by the front of his shirt and slammed into a wall by a glove-clad hand, those smoking green eyes a bare four inches from his face. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me the hell alone?” He’s growling. For once, Wes is genuinely scared, cold radiating through his sweater and jeans.

“I - I just want people to stop c-calling me crazy, okay?” he manages to get out, shivering from the cold, he tells himself. 

“Join the fucking club, Weston. I’m the school nuthouse escapee already. Why are you so damn obsessed with me?” Wes notes the degraded eloquence and shrinks against the wall as much as he can. 

“I-I - you - y-you don’t remember anything f-from six mo-months ago? Fucking honestly?” Wes’s nasally voice breaks into the chilled air in puffs, steamed from his breath, shaking even with his bold words.

“Oh. A made-up grudge. Like I’m not used to that a couple hundred times over.” Phantom scoffs, eyes rolling, and Wes puffs up, scowling.

“That fucking game you r-ruined - I c-could be a ch-championship win-ner by now if it - weren’t for y-you - I needed that f-fucking schol-scholarship!” Wrong thing to say, Wesley. 

Phantom’s eyes pulse a solid green and he snarls, animalistic to contrast Fenton’s human features. “Oh, I’m so  _ fucking sorry _ that I was running for my life at the time, Weston, that’s such a  _ goddamn tragedy _ \- really, how have you  _ ever  _ survived this long without killing yourself already?  _ I  _ sure wouldn’t have -  _ oh, wait.  _ I’m already  _ dead. _ ” His words are growled and now his face is a bare two inches from Wes’s. “I died at fourteen. I’m gonna age to about thirty-five and stop. I’m gonna outlive every fucking person I know and care about and I’m gonna look like a peak-of-performance thirty-five-year-old the entire time.” He’s on a roll, eyes pulsing an even more solid green with his rising rage, air dropping below freezing and Wes shivering harder. “That is, if I make it past high school with my secret identity intact, you know - the one you’re trying to  _ expose _ .” 

Wes just scowls. “W-why do y-you ca-care? Y-you’re a- a- a fucking - su-superhero, peo-people l-love you.” 

Wes, you’re really good at saying the wrong thing. Phantom’s face contorts and he tosses Wes to the ground, floating down and holding him down with a foot. “You have no. Fucking. Idea. How it’d affect my life, Weston. My parents are  _ ghost hunters.  _ They want to dissect me, Danny goddamn Phantom, ‘atom by atom’. News would get out and I’d be strapped to an operation table faster than you could blink. There’d be no, ‘Oh, Danny, we’re so  _ proud  _ of you, you’re such an inspirational superhero!” Nah. Any explanation would be shot down by ‘get out of my son, ghost!’ or ‘you’re no son of ours!’” Was Wes hallucinating, or were those… tears in Phantom’s eyes?

He doesn’t get a chance to respond. Phantom’s already let him up. “Next time, you’re dead, Weston.” The growl makes him believe it, and Phantom’s gone without a trace but for the ice on the brick.


End file.
